How’s it going, everyone?

I’ve had a rough couple weeks. For whatever reason, I’ve felt emotionally raw, like my fortitude is running thin and I’m extra susceptible to every little negative vibe and thought. I think I’m coming out of it, but man, down spells really do take it out of a person. To those who live under the relentless cloud of depression, my heart goes out.

Celebrating… that I’ve finally finished this book. It was super good, but it sure wasn’t easy to read. Alcoholism is a true beast. Do I recommend the book? Yes. . . maybe. It certainly is incredibly well-written, but it may have been part of the reason I’ve been in a funk.

Obsessively hitting refresh… on the CaringBridge page of our friends whose nineteen-year-old son has been, quite terrifyingly suddenly, diagnosed with a brain tumor. These friends are not close close friends, but we have enough parallel big life experiences (several years in Central America, church, school, children of similar ages, etc), that their pain hits a nerve. I’ve had trouble sleeping for thinking about them. The heartbreak is incomprehensible. This is also part of the reason I’ve been feeling so down, I think.

Wondering… why we don’t make tamales more often? We had them for my daughter’s birthday meal and they are so easy to make, and cheap, and soooo delicious and the whole family eats themselves silly on them, so why not make them on a regular basis? 

Luxuriating… in my partially renovated bedroom. The first couple steps — tearing out the closet and repainting the whole room — have been completed and the extra space and light and brightness are just wonderful. But I’m kinda worried, too, because since it’s so nice and all right now, maybe my husband will lose steam and forgo steps three, four, and five?

Lecturing… my younger son about the dangers of listening to NPR 24/7. A couple hours a day is fine, I say, but there is such a thing as too much news. It’s an industry, feeding you highly curated material — material that sells — and you are the consumer. Limits and boundaries, my boy. Leave some space for your own thoughts, ‘kay?

Delighting… over all the leftover grocery money at the end of the month. Having two less mouths to feed really does make a difference.

Eating… stale popcorn. It’s leftover from our Sunday movie night (we also had piña coladas and apples) and still surprisingly good. We are such popcorn freaks. I ordered fifty pounds from a place in PA and am now wondering if I should’ve gotten a hundred.

Listening… to the tinny sounds of my kids’ choir zoom call, the first rehearsal of the season. My kids had stopped participating because of Covid, but this semester, with the promise of outdoor rehearsals and concerts (and only two of the rehearsals over zoom), they’ve both decided to rejoin. And I am so glad, for the structure and instruction, the outside involvement, and the music, but most of all for what this means: the end of Covid is in sight, GLORY BE.

Relishing… the fact that I went on a run this morning after thinking that I couldn’t because it was raining, After stomping around the house for a bit, sighing mightily, repeatedly opening the door to stare at the rain clouds and to gauge the speed and density of the falling droplets, and after playing the weather radar over and over, I finally decided that it wasn’t raining that hard, and that the radar’s solid mass of rainclouds was probably a fabrication (because I am a weather expert), and fled the house. And you know what?!! It didn’t rain!!! Maybe I’ll take up poker next. 

Considering… overalls. We got a pair for my daughter for her birthday and she looks so stinkin’ cute in them that now I’m thinking I might want some for myself. But don’t they make it difficult to go to the bathroom?

Remembering… that my husband had said that, since there’s probably going to be a seed shortage this year, I should pick up seeds when I go into town this morning. Oops. Tomorrow, I guess?

Realizing… that my younger son should probably be eating five meals a day. He’s basically a human version of a late-summer weed — obnoxious, enormous, persistent, and always in the way — and while he doesn’t say much about food, I’m beginning to notice that he’s randomly tucking into enormous bowls of granola or fixing himself yet another sandwich. I bet if I handed him a plate of real food every couple hours — a bowl of soup, say, or whatever leftovers are knocking about the fridge — he’d put it away, no problem.

Rolling my eyes… over the dumb dogs. They’re fine when they’re outside by themselves, but as soon as one of the kids goes out, Coco and Danny Boy start whaling on each other. I’m guessing it’s a possessiveness thing? Not sure how to fix it, though. Any dog whisperers out there?

Itching… to get my Covid vaccine. I’m just so done with this stupid pandemic. I want to read lips and hug people and go to church and sit down with friends around a table inside and wear lipstick and be normal. Now that the end — or some version of an end — is in sight, I almost can’t bear it anymore.

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photo credit: my older daughter (back when she was training her brother to take over her job at the barn)

This same time, years previous: perfect pita, old-fashioned molasses cream sandwich cookies, Friday mishmash, the Chicoj coffee cooperative, leap year baby, take two, red raspberry rhubarb pie.

Written on Saturday when it was 20 degrees outside and our driveway was a sheet of snow-ice. Today it’s supposed to reach 60, and I’m celebrating by grilling hot dogs for supper.

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Quick question: how many of you have a tube (bottle? jar?) of harissa paste banging around your fridge? This is not a rhetorical question. I am seriously itching to know how many of you have preceded me into the world of harissa.

Because, up until a couple weeks ago, I’d never even tasted the stuff. I’d heard of it, though, since for years now, food writers have been going on and on and on about harissa-this and harissa-that. Finally, after reading one harissa recipe too many (a.k.a this one), I sprang for some harissa of my own, therefore successfully propelling myself into the inner circle of harissa-owning food snobs.

I HAVE ARRIVED.  

The harissa was good, I decided — thick and smokey, with a pleasant whammy of heat — but not exactly earth shattering. 

And then I made this pasta dish from the NYTimes (twice) and I’ve come to the begrudging conclusion that yes — sigh — harissa does indeed deserve a place in my kitchen, if for nothing else than to get squirted into this dish.

harissa poo

But first. This recipe is a little weird. 

One: it calls for eight ounces of pasta to two-and-a-half pounds (!) of meat. The first time, I left the recipe as is, but it was, as I’d expected it’d be, too meaty. I like a higher pasta-to-meat ratio, please and thank you. 

Two: it calls for smashed manicotti. Seriously? Couldn’t I just use noodles instead? Yes, perhaps, but I agree that there is something satisfyingly toothsome about the thick bits of fragmented manicotti. I’m sticking with it. 

Three: the recipe was written unnecessarily complicatedly. I kept getting confused and doubling back. 

Four: the specified large roasting pan isn’t something that’s found in every kitchen (and the only reason I have one is because my aunt gifted one to my mom who is, in turn, loaning it to me). Even though I used the roaster both times, I think the whole thing could be just as easily — and maybe more easily? — baked in a large Dutch oven.

Five: the ingredient list felt fussy. This most recent time, I unthinkingly skipped the onion and used a stalk of celery instead, and I never even knew my mistake until I sat down to write up the recipe. I also got sloppy with measurements — using a cup of tomato sauce in place of paste, a hard sharp cheddar in place of the Parm, a bowlful of canned tomatoes instead of fresh, more chicken broth, etc. Conclusion: the recipe is much more forgiving than one might think. Treat it like a formula.

Since I have a colon thing going on, I might as well continue…

A note about flavors: this dish is Italian soul food but with a North African kiss. It’s comfort food with a touch of exotic. It’s familiar enough to feel homey and safe, but with a little something special. You get the picture. 

And regarding the process: With its slow, languid bake-time, this is The Perfect Dish to make on a blustery, painfully cold Saturday (IT’S SO COLD), but take heart, m’friends. Winter’s nearing an end. Soon enough I’ll be yammering on and on about rhubarb and asparagus, Icannotwait.

Baked Pasta With Harissa Bolognese
Adapted from the NYT Cooking.

The recipe calls for ¼ cup harissa paste. Three tablespoons was pushing my family’s comfort levels; two tablespoons was perfect.

My younger daughter said this would be good with beans, and I think she’s probably right. Actually, I can see the heart of this recipe (and its method) adapting to a wide range of ingredients: tossing in some lentils and kale and some cubes of sweet potato, or a can of white beans, or cracking in a few eggs a la shakshuka.

1-2 pound ground beef
olive oil
1 cup tomato sauce
2-4 tablespoons harissa paste
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon ground coriander
2 cups of a mix of grated hard white cheese (Parmesan, cheddar, Pecorino, etc), divided
1¾ teaspoon salt
black pepper
2 cups chopped tomatoes with juice
1 carrot, peeled and chopped
1 small onion, peeled and chopped
4 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
3-4 cups chicken broth
½ cup heavy cream
8 ounces manicotti, bashed to bits with a rolling pin
½ cup chopped fresh parsley

Into a roasting pan (or a large Dutch oven) dump the following: ground beef, a big drizzle of olive oil, the tomato sauce and harissa paste, the Worcestershire sauce, the cumin and coriander, the chopped tomatoes, a few grinds of black pepper, and one cup of the grated cheese.

In a food processor, pulse the veggies — the carrot, onion, garlic, and celery (and I bet fresh fennel would go nicely here) — until finely ground. Add to the roasting pan. 

Mix everything together roughly and pop into a 375 oven for 30 minutes, giving it a good stir every ten minutes or so, and breaking up the meat as you go.

Stir in the broth and heavy cream, and then add the pasta, pressing it down into the sauce to submerge it as much as possible. Bake another 30 minutes, stirring every ten minutes.

Sprinkle with most of the parsley and the remaining cheese, and drizzle a bit of olive oil on top. Return to the oven for another 5-10 minutes. Prior to serving, let rest at room temp for ten minutes or so to soak up the last of the liquid.

To finish, top with the last of the parsley and a grind of black pepper. Serve with more fresh Parm, if desired.

This same time, years previous: homemade pasta, steer sitting, the quotidian (2.23.15), Molly’s Marmalade cake, Grandma Baer’s caramel popcorn.

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

Does salad get any better than this? No, no it does not.

Beans and greens.

Test tart.

My winter office: bakery prep.

Sweet boy.

The cuddle corner.

The bedroom renovation has begun!

Documenting her documenting me nagivating the driveway on my butt.

Ice creature.

Home.
_{^{photo credit: my younger daughter}}

This same time, years previous: hello!, jelly toast, a love story, the quotidian (2.22.16), peanut butter and jelly bars, pan-fried tilapia, a quiet day on the ranch, the case of the whomping shovel.